


The Hitman Bodyguard

by dracusfyre



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Tony Stark, Bodyguard Romance, Getting Together, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: From anImagineTonyandBuckyprompt:Imagine Bucky got away earlier from Hydra and from lack of anything to do, took up with a bodyguard company. Pepper and the board of directors decide that Tony needs a bodyguard when the Mandarin sends a threat. After that job, Bucky keeps insinuating that there is another threat and another, just to stay with Tony. Then Steve sees him





	1. Chapter 1

            “I don’t need a bodyguard, for crying out loud, I’m  _Iron Man,_ ” a strident voice was insisting from the room at the end of the hallway.  Bucky didn't take it personally; this wasn’t his first reluctant client and he  _did_  have a point.

            “Being Iron Man doesn’t make you invincible, Tony.” This voice was a lady's, steely and taking no shit. Bucky's lips quirked, picturing a flash of bright red lipstick and brown curls.  “You may not be the CEO anymore but you are still Stark Industries’ most valuable asset, and you will be protected as such.”

            “But-“ Just as Mr. Stark was opening his mouth to protest further Bucky’s escort opened the door to the conference room and ushered Bucky inside.

            “Sir. Ma’am,” the escort said with a respectful nod.  “James Buchanan is here for Ms. Potts.”

            “Call me Bucky,” he said with a polite smile, holding a gloved hand out for the lady to shake.  Ms. Virginia Potts, current CEO and apparently a long-time Tony Stark wrangler, was a tall, pretty red-head, pale cheeks still a little flushed from her argument with Mr. Stark. “Pleasure to meet you.”

            “I’m so glad to see you,” she answered, and there was a snort from Stark, who was giving him a slow, thorough examination from head to toe over the top of his rose colored sunglasses, not missing anything in between. 

            Raising an eyebrow, Bucky looked back, knowing that this was an extremely flattering suit that was specifically tailored to not inhibit movement and to disguise the half a dozen weapons he had on his person.  “You know what,” Stark said with a grin, “I changed my mind.  Having a bodyguard is a very good idea.”

            “Tony,” Ms. Potts said warningly. “Behave.”  She gestured to her desk for Bucky to take a seat. “Did you have any questions about the contract?” she asked, completely ignoring the hovering Stark.  “I confirmed that payment was sent this morning.”

            “No questions, ma’am,” Bucky said politely.  “It’s a standard gig, even if the client and the threat are a little…”

            “Outrageous?” Pepper offered, looking innocent as Stark made an indignant noise. “Unreasonable? Difficult?”

            “Extreme,” Bucky finished with a smile. “Nothing I can’t handle, however.”

            Pepper leaned back in her chair and raised her eyebrows skeptically.  “Your job is to make sure that _this one,_ ” she pointed her pen at Stark, “doesn’t succeed in having himself killed before the Mandarin and the Ten Rings can be caught.  I wanted a small army, but-”

            “But I’m Iron Man,” Stark said again, looking at his watch like this whole meeting was a waste of time and he’d rather be somewhere else. “I’m not afraid of the Mandarin or the Ten Rings, they can-”

            “They almost killed you before, Tony,” Pepper said, words firm.  “I’m not going to let them have another chance.”

            The silence that fell at that was thick and uncomfortable, so Bucky said, “I promise you he’s in good hands,” standing because it felt like if the meeting wasn’t over, it really should be.  “I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m the best.”

            “Thank you.” Pepper smiled faintly as she stood as well, shaking his hand again. “That’s what I hear.”

 

            “So what’s your deal?” Stark asked abruptly after he lost a fight with Bucky to be in the driver’s seat. As Bucky pulled out into LA traffic, he took off his sunglasses, studying Bucky with eyes that seemed far too observant for a spoiled rich boy, even a genius one.  “How do you know you’re the ‘best’? What does that even mean?”

            “It means that I take on all of the hard cases, the ones no one else wants,” Bucky said. “And I’m the best because I’ve never lost a client.”

            Stark snorted. “Like a pop princess getting death threats?”

            “More like corporate whistle-blowers surviving to testify,” Bucky said mildly, not letting Tony get under his skin like he was clearly trying to.  “Or protecting journalists from third-world government hit squads, or extracting oil executives being held for ransom by terrorist groups.”

            Stark stared at him for a long moment, clearly trying to gauge if he was being serious. “So you’re what, a Rambo-wannabe?”

            “I’m the guy that Rambo would give his left arm to be,” Bucky said with a private smile. “So unless you are going to live in the Iron man suit 24-7, get used to me being around."

            Stark fell silent after that, staring out the window of the car thoughtfully as Bucky headed south out of LA towards Stark’s home.  As he pulled into the giant circle drive, Bucky eyed Stark’s cliffside mansion, a white, sweeping building that was all sleek curves and glass.  A typical southern California mansion and about as defensible as a playground.  “This is the address you gave out to the public?”

            “Yeah,” Stark said as Bucky parked the car.  “It has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”

            Bucky raised an eyebrow at the quote as they got out of the car.  “And yet here we are anyway, because going to a hotel would be too easy, apparently.” He beat Stark to the door and took the keys from his hand.  “Me first,” Bucky said as he went inside.  “Stay here.”

            Bucky took twenty minutes to clear the house, even though he could tell in the first five minutes that they were safe; there was no acrid smell of explosives or oiled scent of weapons, no harsh rasp of breath as someone waited in ambush.  But the whole time he’d been looking for threats, Stark had been heckling him from the doorway, so every time Stark made a comment Bucky added time to the search.  They could have been there all evening if Stark hadn’t gotten a phone call that made him step back out to the driveway.

            When he was finished, Bucky leaned against the doorframe and watched Stark gesticulating as he talked, pacing back and forth, face going through a panoply of emotions at whatever the speaker was saying. At one point, Stark’s eyes met Bucky’s with a  _can you believe this guy?_ expression before he was off again. 

            Finally Stark shouted, “You’ll get the goddamn prints from my cold dead hands!” and hung up the phone, turning to face Bucky with a smile. “You’re finally done?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good.” Stark walked in and said, “Hey, JARVIS, has anyone other than me or Mr. James Buchannan here had access to this building in the past week?”

            “Ms. Potts came by for dinner on Thursday,” a voice in the ceiling said, and Stark nodded with satisfaction.

            “See? I could have saved us a lot of time if you had listened to me,” he said, shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening his tie. 

            “I’m not getting paid the big bucks to take your AI’s word for it,” Bucky said mildly. “No offense, JARVIS, and it's a pleasure to meet you.”

            “You as well, and no offense taken, Mr. Buchanan.”

            “I’ve got some work to do,” Stark announced as he rolled up his sleeves, already heading down the stairs to his lab. “JARVIS, give the man access to the security system,” he said, voice echoing in the curved stairwell. "Bucky now has babysitter privileges."  

            And with that, Bucky was left alone in the echoing house.

 

            He gave Stark three hours to sulk in his lab before he ordered a pizza, meeting the delivery guy at the gate instead of letting him up the driveway, and took it down to the lab.  “JARVIS, does babysitter privileges mean access to the lab?”

            “No, but the Pizza Protocol does,” JARVIS replied as the ballistic glass door to the lab slid open.  Inside, Stark was in the center of a bright blue hologram that moved at a dizzying speed every time he gestured.  It wasn’t until he was standing next to him that Bucky could see that Stark was studying a high-tech recreation of the bomb crime scene at the Chinese Theater that led to Tony's pissing contest with an international terrorist group.

            Stark seemed to still be ignoring him, so Bucky opened the box and started eating, watching with interest as Stark digitally dug through the debris looking for clues.  Bucky had looked at the photos released from the scene, particularly when the offer to be Stark’s bodyguard had come through, but the photos hadn’t shown the scale of the damage.  But as he studied the scene, he saw that the pattern of the blast was strange; the radius of the damage was relatively small but intense.  He’d seen damage like that before.

            “They didn’t say it was a suicide bomber,” he said without thinking, taking another bite of pizza as Stark finally turned to face him. 

            “What makes you say that?” He asked, reaching for a slice. Raising an eyebrow, Bucky moved it out of his reach until Stark muttered an insincere “please.”

            “Blast pattern,” Bucky said.  “Seen it before.  Did they find any pieces of the bomber?”

            As he chewed, Stark studied him curiously.  “Military experience, eh? Of course, that explains a lot.  And no, they didn’t find any pieces of a bomber, so right now the story is that it was a suitcase bomb.”

            “Huh.  Or the bomber was completely incinerated in the blast.” Though that had never happened before, no matter how big the blast; extremities tended to travel, and bones were actually pretty tough to destroy completely.

            “Well, since the blast was in excess of 3000 degrees, that’s certainly possible,” Stark agreed, wiping pizza grease off his hands onto his pants.  Bucky frowned, first because he’d never heard of anything short of military grade missiles with that kind of power, and second because that was well past the melting point of the Iron Man suit.  It was pretty much past the melting point of _everything._

            “So you’re doing this,” Bucky said, gesturing to the hologram, “to help the authorities apprehend the Mandarin?”

            “Sure,” Stark said after a beat, clearly lying. Bucky grabbed another slice of pizza, chewing absently as he calculated the chances that he’d be able to convince Stark to leave this alone.

***

            Bucky was having another one of those goddamn dreams again.

_It was hot; he hated being hot but not as much as the cold, because at least when he was hot he knew he was alive.  He was walking through thick jungle, vines and bushes and trees that kept tangling with his limbs.  His senses were screaming that something was wrong, even though they weren’t at the target yet, the only other people around him were his support team._

_Except-_

_Far away, the sound of helicopters._ Bucky frowned in his sleep.  _Why did that seem wrong? He stopped struggling with the jungle to listen._

_There was more than one._

_But there shouldn’t even be one, a helo would give away their position-_

            That’s when Bucky’s screaming instincts managed to pull him out of sleep and he was out of bed before his eyes were fully open, stumbling a bit from where he was tangled in the sheets.  “JARVIS! Wake up Stark!” he shouted as reached for his gear.  “Tell him to suit up, we’re under attack!”

            Bucky was racing through the living room and screwing on the scope to his .50 cal sniper rifle when Stark’s door slammed open.  “What do you mean, we’re under attack?”  Even as he spoke the Iron Man armor was forming around him. 

            “Choppers,” Bucky said shortly, tucking a communicator in his ear as he stood.  “Three of them, coming in from over the water.”

            Stark stared at him, then out at the windows that looked out over the night sea. “Ok. Right.” He closed his face mask as Bucky started making his way to the roof; he’d noted the closest access point during his walkthrough earlier. “What are you doing? I don’t need help with three measly helicopters!”  He shouted at Bucky’s back, voice slightly tinny from the suit’s speakers.

            “I know,” Bucky answered through the comm as he took the stairs two at a time, .50 cal slung over his back.  “But I get a hefty bonus from your insurance company if I minimize property damage.”  He scowled when he hit the roof and realized that he’d have no cover or concealment from incoming fire because the roof was completely smooth and flat.  “Try to keep them occupied, I’m going to be pretty vulnerable to return fire,” he said as he got into position.

            The sound of the chopper blades were significantly louder, probably even audible to an average person standing outside.  The attackers had chosen an overcast night for this op, clearly hoping that the lack of moonlight would provide concealment; but a cloudy night in the desert was different from a cloudy night in Southern California where the light pollution stained the clouds a deep reddish orange.  Against that sky, the black helicopters stood out enough for Bucky to line up a shot, particularly since they hadn’t turned off the indicator lights.  “I got the front guy,” he said as Tony blazed out towards the three incoming helos.  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he aimed.  He squeezed the trigger and smiled with satisfaction when he saw the lead helo start losing altitude, careening towards the cliffs below the house as alarms blared. Stark made short work of the other two, slicing the tail off one and taking out the other’s engines.

            As the flames from the last helicopter were extinguished by the ocean waves, Stark landed next to Bucky on the rooftop.  “Hefty bonus, huh? I’m pretty surprised that I even have insurance anymore,” he said as he opened his face plate. 

            Bucky snorted.  “Buddy, with the premiums you’re paying I’m not sure it’s worth it.” He used his scope to search the dark ocean, looking for survivors.  “Looks like we’ve got a few swimmers, if you want to go pick them up,” he said as he got to his feet. “See what they have to say for themselves.”

            “I will.  But, first, I still say I could have handled all three, but that was an amazing shot,” he said, closing his face plate again as his repulsors initialized and he started hovering. “Second, nice ass, those boxer briefs are very flattering.  Third, we are going to have a conversation about that arm next time we’re alone.”

            Bucky glanced down, suddenly realizing that he was almost naked, his metal arm reflecting the same dull red light that had given away the helos, and cursed as Stark flew away.


	2. Chapter 2

            Hours later, Bucky closed the door on the last of the police, SHIELD, FBI, and whatever other members of the federal alphabet soup that had turned up when Stark had reported the helicopter attack.  Turning, he sighed when he saw Stark studying him as if he could see the metal arm under Bucky’s clothes.  “You gonna tell me about that fancy arm of yours now?”  Stark said. 

            “Nope,” Bucky said, lips popping on the “p,” as he walked around Stark to get to the pot of coffee in the kitchen, praying that there was still some left.

            “Please?” Stark said as he followed.

            "No." 

            "Why not?"

            "I don't talk about it for the same reason you don’t like to talk about the arc reactor,” Bucky said bluntly.  Coffee in hand, he went to the living room to grab his laptop.  He was going to have to write up an incident report about last night for Ms. Potts, so he might as well start now.  “Because it’s personal.”

            “So you were gravely injured in a terrorist attack, were kidnapped by said terrorists, had that arm grafted onto your body without your permission while you were unconscious, and then were kept prisoner for months to build weapons?” Stark said sarcastically.

            Bucky stared at him for a long moment, blinking, and said, “Pretty much.” Stark’s jaw tightened and he looked like he thought Bucky was mocking him.   “Did you figure out anything useful about the Mandarin last night?” Bucky asked, offering the change of topic like an olive branch and trying to refocus that razor sharp intellect where it belonged.  “I noticed you didn’t say much about it to the agents when you told them about the helicopters.”

            For a moment, Stark looked like he still wanted to argue, but then he relented. “Yeah, I did find something.  Rose Hill, Tennessee.”

            As he explained his line of reasoning about Tennessee, Bucky’s frowned deepened.  He rubbed his temples and knew that Stark wasn’t going to let this go.  His next thought was how to kidnap Stark and take him to someplace where he would be hidden and safe, but the whole world knew what happened to people who held him against his will, so.  Short of somehow disabling all of the Iron Man suits, Bucky only saw one way forward.

            “Dammit,” Bucky said aloud, right in the middle of Stark’s theory regarding some dog tags recovered from the blast.

            “What?”

            Bucky sighed.  “I’m going to have to help you superhero this goddamn situation.”

            For a moment, Stark blinked at him blankly. Then he smiled widely. “Yeah? Alright, Rambo. It’s on.”

***

            “So much for that property damage bonus,” Stark said, staring at the ruins of the water tower, water still eddying a little around the boots of the Iron Man suit.

            “Yeah.” Bucky slung his rifle over his back and kicked at a piece of debris.  At least the fallen water tower had put out all the fires.  “Technically the bad guys were responsible for this one, though.”

            “We’ll add it to their tab.  Come on, we’re not finished yet.”  Stark climbed out of his suit and blew on his hands to warm them up as it folded in on itself.  “Clearly someone doesn’t want anyone to know more about what happened here.  Got that file?”

            Bucky tapped his chest where the manila folder was tucked behind his bulletproof vest.  “Yep.  I grabbed it while you were busy with that hot chick.”

            “Busy?” Stark scowled as he picked up his suit, now easily portable, and headed for the main road.  “You mean running for my life?  I thought you were supposed to be my bodyguard.”

            “Hey, I put three bullets in her, center mass.  I don’t think anyone expected that she’d be able to walk that off.” Bucky followed him, checking each car until he found the one that matched the keys they’d swiped off the hot chick’s partner. “Where are we headed now?”

            “Given what just happened, I think ‘out of town’ would be a good direction to start with.”  Stark made grabby hands at Bucky’s chest until he handed over the file. He flipped through the file, reading everything with more thoroughness than he’d had earlier when they'd acquired the file.  Bucky glanced over at him as one page in particular caught his interest.

            “AIM?” Bucky said, reading the big letters off the corner of the page.  “Aren’t they one of those big defense contractors? Like BAE and SAIC?”

            “Not quite on that scale, but they did score a big contract just recently,” Stark said, reaching for his phone.  “Hey Rhodey, whatcha doing?”                

 

            “Are you sure you’re going to be able to access the systems from here?” Bucky whispered dubiously as they made their way to an unguarded news van.  “I thought you’d need a secure system.”

            “Look who you are talking to,” Stark said as they climbed inside.  “All I need is a satellite link and bandwidth.”

            As Stark muttered to himself, frowning at the screens and grumbling at the results of an internet speed test, Bucky held his pistol at the ready, more than a little concerned about the fact that they were basically trapped in this van if another one of those fire people had followed them. He kept his ears tuned to listen for anyone coming and sure enough, after a few minutes, there was the sound of feet crunching on gravel.   "Incoming," Bucky had time to warn before the door to the van swung open.

            To his relief, it was just some local yokel in a baseball cap, who held his hands up in surprise when he saw Bucky's pistol.  Bucky quickly lowered it and half-gestured, half-pulled him into the van.  “What the hell-" the man started, then Stark turned around in his chair and put his finger to his lips. "I-I know you!” The man said excitedly, pulling his baseball cap off his head and wringing it between his hands.  “Oh my God, Tony Stark is in my van! I knew you were still alive!”

            “Is this your van? Is anyone else going to come in?”  Stark asked urgently, gesturing for the man to keep his voice down. 

            “No, it’s just us,” the man said, eyes still glowing with idol worship.  Bucky covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin.  “Can I just say, I’m your biggest fan.”

            “What’s your name?” Apparently resigned to his fate, Stark stood and held his hand out, pointedly ignoring Bucky's amusement. 

            “Gary,” he said, taking Stark’s hand and shaking it for way too long. Bucky coughed to hide a laugh and the man finally took his eyes away from Tony.  “I don’t know you,” the man said.  “Are you-”

            “I’m just the help,” Bucky said hurriedly.  “No one important.”

            “Don’t tell anyone, Gary, but I have a sidekick now,” Stark said, automatically dodging Bucky’s retaliatory smack.  He put his hands on the man’s arms and squeezed them, face getting serious. “Look, buddy, I’m going to need your help, ok?”  Bucky didn’t understand Stark’s instructions, but the man must have because he was nodding like his head was going to fall off and then he was climbing back out of the van, glancing in at Stark one more time before shut the door.

            “I think he wants to wear your skin,” Bucky said in a stage whisper.  Loud pongs echoed inside the van as Gary climbed on top to soup up Stark's internet. 

            “Yeah, me too.  Is that kind of thing covered in the bodyguard contract?” Stark said as he obsessively refreshed the internet speed counter. 

            “No, just terrorists.  I mean, you don’t need a bodyguard, for crying out loud, you’re _Iron Man_ ,” Bucky said in a creditable impression of Stark.  Stark opened his mouth to respond just as the red lights on the screen in front of him turned green.  Windows flashed almost faster than Bucky could read them until Stark found an index of personnel files; then a video started playing of an interview.  Bucky recognized the young man in the video as the kid from the alleged suicide here in Rose Hill.  Stark flipped to a different interview and it was the hot chick from earlier, but in this video her left arm ended right before the elbow and that had definitely not been the case earlier.  The next video he put on was titled “Injection Test” and in it some smarmy-looking asshole with a ponytail said, “Misfits, cripples…you are the next phase in human evolution,” which made Bucky little queasy.  He clenched his jaw as he pushed away the bad memories, rolling his shoulders as he felt tension gathering there.

            "Aldrich Killian," Stark said with a rude snort, not noticing Bucky’s reaction. Stark dismissed that video and moved to another one titled “Phase_One.”  As he watched the people being strapped in to the medical gurneys and injected with a clear fluid, Bucky started feeling lightheaded; absently he realized that his heart was pounding and his breathing was shallow.

            _Stop it,_ he told himself, trying to take a deep breath and slow his pulse.  _It’s not you.  It’s not going to be you._   Then the people on the screen started moaning with pain as they started glowing from the inside out; when one of them screamed, sharp and sudden, both Bucky and Stark flinched.  Bucky stood up suddenly and turned away from the screen, putting his hands over his ears and closing his eyes tight.  It didn’t help much, because he could still hear the screams but now they were his _own_ screams as he struggled against his restraints –

            He jerked violently away from the hand that touched his shoulder, banging into the wall of the van.  Stark took a step back, hands in the air; Bucky’s eyes flicked between him and the screen behind him, paused in mid-explosion, for long, disoriented seconds before he remembered where he was.

            “Holy shit, you were serious, weren’t you?” Stark said.  “About being held by terrorists. Was it them?” he asked, tilting his head at the screen behind them.

            “No, not them,” Bucky said roughly.  “And I still don’t want to talk about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest to hide that his flesh hand was shaking. “Well? What did you find out?”

            Stark eyed him for a long moment, gaze sharp and concerned.  “Are you ok?”

            “I’m fine.”  Bucky knew he was being curt, but embarrassment was starting to bleed in as the adrenaline faded.

            “Ok,” Stark said, sounding unconvinced as he reluctantly turned back to the screen. “I found out that these guys aren’t the bombers, they’re the _bombs_.” Tony reversed the footage and played it again, showing one of the glowing test experiments as he went nuclear. 

            “The Mandarin is turning these people into weapons?” Bucky’s stomach turned over. 

            “Not the Mandarin. AIM.” Stark flipped through the screens until he found Smarmy Ponytail and tapped the monitor. “This guy, Aldrich Killian.”  He closed all the screens and wiped the computer, giving Gary an awkward smile and wave as they made their way back to the car.

            “So where are we going now?” Bucky said as they got in, grateful to be away from the screams that still seemed to echo inside that cramped van.

            “Hold on,” Stark said, distracted as he looked at his phone.  “I’m having JARVIS do a query of available AIM downlink facilities in order to pinpoint the Mandarin’s broadcast signal.”

            “Ok.”  Bucky drove as far as he could while Stark worked, until he pulled up to an intersection with a major highway.  “Well?” he asked as the car idled. “North or south?”

            “South,” Stark said in surprise. “Apparently we’re going to Miami.”       

            “Miami?” Bucky repeated, curling his lip.  He still hated being hot, and beaches were a particular pet peeve – it wasn't socially acceptable wear long sleeves and his arm would get hot as fuck if it sat out in the sun for too long.  And the sand got  _everywhere._

            “Yeah, looks like we get to have a road trip.” At Bucky’s unexcited face, Stark elbowed him.  “It’ll be fun.”

            “Fine. But I get to pick the music,” he said, pulling onto the onramp for the southbound lane.  The first few hours of the drive went by fast because Stark’s love of classic rock was well known and Bucky had plenty of that on his music player, but when they were halfway through Georgia Stark started pestering him about his arm again, so Bucky got revenge by playing the most obnoxious music he could find.

            “Oh my god, is that klezmer?” Stark said, sitting up as the first wailing notes of a clarinet started.  To Bucky’s surprise, he leaned forward and actually turned the volume up.

            “How in the hell do you know klezmer?” Bucky demanded, glancing over to see Stark tapping his hands to the beat.

            “How in the hell do  _you_  know klezmer?” he countered.  “I grew up listening to this stuff whenever my parents left me with our butler, Jarvis.  His wife was Jewish, came over here from Hungary.”

            “Huh. I spent some time in Bucharest.”  Five years, to be precise, five years of hiding in the ghettos, Jewish and otherwise, from Hydra and the world in general.  

            After that, Stark seemed interested in listening to all the music Bucky had accumulated on his music player, playing the songs that he had funny or interesting stories about.  The only exception was when he accidentally hit a Glenn Miller song; his lips went flat and face blank as he turned it off. “My dad used to listen to this kind of stuff when he was drinking,” was his only explanation.  Bucky didn’t comment as Stark put AC/DC back on, because that music didn’t exactly have great memories for him either.

            Stark eventually fell asleep somewhere around Orlando, with his jacket bunched up under his head and Bucky’s coat draped over his shoulders.  As the yellow sodium lights flashed over his face, he looked deceptively vulnerable; awake, he was a force of nature, every inch a super hero, a decisive strength and intellect that barely seemed contained by his physical form.  But like this, features slack with sleep, his breathing deep and slow, he was an all-too-human Tony.  Bucky could see why he inspired so much awe in so many and why Ms. Potts was so desperate to keep him safe.  

            He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, resisting the urge to pull the blanket up higher around Tony's shoulders.  Getting too attached to this man, of all the people on the planet, would end in nothing but disaster. 


	3. Chapter 3

_When I'm done keeping this idiot alive,_  Bucky swore as he sprinted down the catwalk,  _I'm going to kill him myself._   Colonel Rhodes was already gone with the President safely in tow, but Tony was determined to bring down that Killian guy that started all of this, even though the man was destroying Tony's suits as fast as Tony could summon them.  Bucky had never known terror like he had when Killian's red hot hand had clawed through Tony's suit like a hot knife through butter, but Tony kept going with a determination that was as infuriating as it was awe inspiring. 

            " _Tony!_ " Bucky yelled, catching sight of him two stories up.  " _I swear to God if you jump from another god-damn-_ " but it was too late, he'd already done it, leaping from one catwalk to another without hesitating. "I'm going to kill him. I'm gonna smother him in his sleep," Bucky panted to himself, taking a metal ladder two rungs at a time, trying to catch up to Tony.  One of Killian's henchmen dropped down in front of him, and without hesitating Bucky punched him in the face. When the man took a step back, Bucky wrenched a metal railing off its frame and stabbed it through the man's heart, stepping over him as his white hot glow started to dim.  At the far end of the platform, Tony, already in another suit, was slugging it out with Killian, and Bucky could see the armor plates as they were ripped off Tony's body and tossed aside.  Desperately Bucky tried to plot a course to where they were but before he could start moving he saw Tony go down.  

            "No!" Suddenly Tony was free falling, thrown off the end of the platform he'd been fighting on.  Bucky knew he wasn't going to make it in time to catch him but he vaulted off his own catwalk anyway, his metal hand clawing grooves in the support beam as he slowed his fall. Tony seemed to be falling in slow motion, twisting in the air, then out of nowhere a suit caught him, forming around him before he hit the ground.  No sooner had Bucky landed on the deck of the decommissioned oil rig than Tony was gone again, a white blaze in the sky as he caught Killian and carried him all the way back up to the top of the rig. 

            "I give up," Bucky said throwing his hands in the air.  He squinted upward, trying to catch a glimpse of Tony and seeing only the flashes of his repulsors. Suddenly there was an explosion that shook the entire rig, metal groaning as a support beam came unmoored. Tony was falling again, his descent barely slowed by the fragments of a suit that had flown to his rescue. He landed hard on a catwalk, almost rolling off the side and catching a railing right before he fell. But the catwalk itself was leaning, pulling away from the rest of the rig with loud pops and shrieks and swinging widely.

            "Tony!" Bucky shouted again, already running.  By the light of the fires he could see Tony gauging the distance to the ground and it was too far, he was still way too high, that suit was not intact enough to break his fall-

            "Oh, hey Bucky, where you been?" Tony said as Bucky caught him and set him on his feet, shaking off the damaged gauntlets, jumping as a piece of catwalk collapsed nearby with a deafening clang. 

            Bucky put his hands on Tony's shoulders. "I'm going to kill you," Bucky said calmly, staring into Tony's eyes and shaking him, willing him to understand how serious Bucky was.  "If you do another one of those god-damn stupid Hail Mary jumps from a high place and pray that a suit will catch you, I'm going to resign as your bodyguard and then I'm going to strangle you."

            "Kinky," Tony said, wincing as his smile pulled on a wound on his cheek. "You're going to have to take a number, because..." Tony trailed off as he saw something over Bucky's shoulder, eyes going wide. " _Get down!"_  

            Bucky didn’t question it, he tackled Tony to the deck as something hot went through the space where they’d been standing. “Holy shit, are you _kidding me_ with this fucking guy,” Bucky said, rolling one way as Tony rolled the other.  Bucky came up with a length of rebar and swung it at the man’s torso like he was swinging for a home run, slamming him into a nearby wall. Tony scrambled for a loose missile that had spilled from one of his destroyed suits and threw it at Killian like the world’s deadliest dart.

            “Shoot it!” He shouted, and without hesitation Bucky pulled the pistol from the small of his back and shot the missile just as it impacted Killian’s chest, throwing himself sideways to cover Tony.  The resulting explosion was bigger than he expected, not quite burning the clothes off Bucky’s back but it felt like his skin was going to feel sunburnt for a few hours.

            "Holy shit," Bucky said, glancing back at where Killian used to be to make sure it was over. "That was...something."  He looked down at Tony to see him staring up at him, eyes wide. “You ok?” Bucky asked.  Tony swallowed and nodded, eyes glancing down at Bucky’s mouth and then back up again, and that was when he realized that Tony was holding him close, fingers brushing his collarbone were they were gripping his bullet-proof vest. 

            Bucky’s breath caught in his chest, skin suddenly prickling and alive from that tiny bit of contact.  Swallowing thickly, he licked his lips and watched as Tony unconsciously mirrored the action, and then Tony’s chin was tilting up in a clear invitation that made Bucky’s heart start pounding all over again.  He found himself leaning in for a kiss, suddenly desperate to feel Tony's mouth against his own, before a far off explosion made him flinch and Tony look away and then the moment was gone.

           Bucky sat back on his heels and tried to catch his breath, looking anywhere but at Tony. “You watch too many movies,” he accused.  “You gotta stop with this action hero bullshit.”

            “Look who's talking, Rambo." Tony slowly sagged to the ground until he was lying on the cement, watching the metal rigging burn. "You’re just mad that you’re the sidekick.”

            “Sidekick?” Bucky repeated, sitting down next to him.  They were going to have to leave soon, but they had a few minutes before emergency crews started arriving, if the slowly collapsing rig lasted that long.  “Excuse me, I just killed the bad guy.  Maybe _you’re_ the sidekick.”

            “The love interest then.  It fits, the long dark hair, tragic mysterious past, the nice rack-”

            “ _Nice rack_?” Bucky sputtered, trying to hide the way his heart tripped when Tony said _love interest_. 

            “You heard me.” Tony turned his head to give him a crooked grin, flames reflecting in his eyes and blood drying on his face.  _Oh no_ , Bucky thought helplessly, and fell in love. 

***

            When Ms. Potts called him in for an appointment a two weeks after the events in Miami, Bucky found himself dragging his feet.  Bucky was well aware of the fact that the terms of the contract were technically satisfied – Killian was dead, the Mandarin and their co-conspirators in jail – but now that he was sitting here, faced with the prospect of never seeing Tony again, Bucky realized just how much he didn't want it to be over.

            “There is still a risk that Killian’s network hasn’t been completely dismantled,” Bucky pointed out, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.  “Also, Tony – Mr. Stark – is the highest profile witness in the case against AIM, which puts him at risk.”

            “True,” Pepper said, leaning back in her office chair.  “But AIM is already filing for dissolution and from what I understand, the authorities already located everyone who was involved in the Extremis project.  Do you think there are others out there?”

            Shit.  “Perhaps,” Bucky said, thinking fast.  “But in the grand scheme of things, his address is still public knowledge, waiting for the next guy that wants to take a potshot at him.  The Mandarin, or rather Killian, might not be a threat anymore but Stane was a close friend and Vanko attacked him in the middle of a car race.”

            Pepper leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her palm. “So what’s your point?”

            “I’m saying that for someone like Tony, there’s no such thing as safe,” Bucky said bluntly.  “Unless he decides to move, lower his public profile, maybe erase his internet presence…”

            “So if he became someone other than Tony Stark,” Pepper finished.  “Are you proposing to stay on as his bodyguard indefinitely?”

            "If not me, then  _someone_." Bucky spread his hands.  “But let's be honest, you came to me in the first place because I'm the best.”

            Pepper tilted her head and studied him thoughtfully.  "I see," she said and Bucky was afraid that she actually did.  But she merely stood and offered her hand without any further comment.  "Thank you, Mr. Buchanan. If you're willing, I’ll have the paperwork drawn up immediately and forwarded to your company.”

            “Thank you, ma’am,” He said as he shook her hand, trying not to let the relief show on his face.  As soon as the door to her office closed behind him, he blew out a long breath and called Tony.  “Bad  news, Tony,” he said as soon as he picked up.  “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while longer.”

            “Woe is me,” Tony said cheerfully.  “If that’s the case, we gotta set some ground rules. First off, I know you’ve been talking to Rhodey behind my back, so cut that shit out and get your own friends. Rhodey’s mine and I don’t need you two ganging up on me.”

            "No,” Bucky said, jogging down the stairs to the garage where his car was parked. “If I’m going to be your bodyguard for a while, I’m going to need backup.”

            “I finally get to examine your arm,” he tried.

            “No,” Bucky said again.  No way was he going to take the chance that something inside his arm would tip Tony off to where it came from.

            “Dammit,” Tony said without much heat.  “Well I get to pick the movies for movie nights.  _Indefinitely_. No complaining, not even if it’s Sharknado.”

            “Deal,” Bucky said, grinning widely.


	4. Chapter 4

            Bucky had obviously seen Stark Tower before; it was an iconic part of the New York City skyline, as easily recognizable as the Empire State Building. But seeing it while wandering around in its shadow was entirely different from parking in Tony’s private underground garage and taking the interminable elevator ride it took to get to the top, then seeing the city spread out before him like it was his personal back yard.

            He allowed himself fifteen seconds to stare before he turned away, trying to seem blasé about it all.  “So where do all the others live?” Bucky asked casually, strolling around the common room.

            “Others? You mean like Steve and the rest?”

            “Yeah.” _Specifically Steve,_ Bucky thought. “Do they stay here?”

            “Sometimes,” Tony said with a distracted, one shoulder shrug. “Bruce was here for a while and Thor stays here when he’s…on the planet.  Steve has his own place in DC and God only knows about Clint and Natasha.”

            Bucky’s shoulders eased when Tony said DC.  “Why are you moving out of the tower? It’s so…you,” he said, strolling back to poke Tony in the side.  “Stylish. Flashy. Practically screaming, ‘hey, I’m over here, try to kill me.’”

            Tony stuck his tongue out.  “Too many possible collateral damage and civilian casualties.”

            “Ah.”  Couldn’t really argue with that.  “When do they break ground for the new place?”

            “Tomorrow.”  Tony had played a huge part in designing the new Avengers headquarters, so he planned to be in New York for the duration of the construction.  For his part, Bucky wasn’t super thrilled about being back in the city – too many memories and almost-memories – but he wasn’t prepared to break his contract and leave Tony because of it, especially if Steve stayed down in DC.  The tower was pretty fucking cool though. Being this high above the streets was a rush. 

            “Hey, Tony,” he said, turning away from the view.  “What’s for-”

            Tony held up a finger, phone in his ear.  “Yeah, two large pepperoni for delivery, please.” He put his hand over the speaker and said, “We’re having pizza and we’re going to watch _Zombieland_.”

            “Again?” Bucky made a face.

            “No complaining,” Tony said.  “We made a deal. Plus, we are going to rewatch it until you realize the gift that Woody Harrelson is.”

 

            The next evening, Bucky was flipping through the apparently unending channels on the TV when he realized he’d seen the same video playing on three different news stations.  So he paused, reading the headlines, and then rewound the footage.

            “Tony,” he called out, stomach sinking. 

           “What’s up?” Tony answered from the kitchen.

           “You said Ste- Captain America works with SHIELD in DC, right?” Bucky said almost absently as he kept playing and rewinding the footage of the attack in DC, watching as a black SUV, apparently the SHIELD Director’s SUV, flipped over in a cloud of smoke and flames.

            “Yeah, why?”   He heard Tony’s footsteps as he came into the living room, unable to drag his eyes away from the television.

            He paused the TV on the one blurry shot of the perpetrator that the camera managed to catch.  It was a man, all in black, with goggles and a mask on. “You’ve gotta go to DC,” Bucky said urgently. “Right now. He is in danger.”

            Tony went still, eyes going between the TV and Bucky, clearly trying to make the connection. “ _What?_ Why?”

            Bucky pressed play and let Tony watch the clip he’d been watching. “Holy shit,” Tony said, eyes widening. “ _Nick._ Did they say anything about-”

            “Trust me,” he said. “ _Go._ Right now, before it gets worse.”

            “Yeah, ok. I’m going.”  Tony headed for the stairs down to his lab. “Are you coming?” He called out over his shoulder.  “You could take one of the cars-”

            Bucky’s mouth twisted. “I can’t,” he said, turning and pacing away from the television.  As much as he wanted, _needed_ , to be there to watch Tony’s back, this was _Hydra._ And _Steve_.  “Not this time. I…” Bucky trailed off to a stop. What could he say?  How could he explain?   _Hey, Tony, I'm kinda but not really the person you think I am._

            “It’s ok,” Tony was already saying soothingly.  He came back to squeeze Bucky’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even have asked.  This isn’t your job. I’m going to go suit up and call Steve.”

            Bucky nodded jerkily. “Be careful.” Despite Tony’s words, he still felt lower than dirt as he watched the Iron Man suit blazing south.  He rewatched the clip again, eyes lingering on the bright blond hair on the man in black, but in his mind he was in a cold, harshly-lit bunker, watching behind iron bars as this man and the other Winter Soldiers killed everyone they could reach.

 

            For the next two days, Bucky was sick with worry, checking in with JARVIS every hour on the hour.  After the first six requests about Tony, JARVIS set up a running feed of Tony’s vitals that Bucky could see on any screen in the tower, though he rarely went much farther than his bedroom and the kitchen.  He wavered between obsessively watching the news and trying to distract himself with stupid movies, but not much worked.  Memories were coming fast and hard, making his hands shake and giving fresh terrors to his dreams.  At one point, Bucky woke up panicking from a nightmare that the attack in DC was a decoy and that Bucky was the true target, and for the next three hours he obsessively roamed the tower, convinced that Hydra was coming.  When he tried to eat, the sudden mental image of Steve in the chair, or Tony, made him throw up until there was only bile left, burning the back of his throat.

            He would have liked to say that he almost changed his mind about going to DC, but the truth was, fear of both seeing Steve and memories of Hydra made it hard to even stay in New York.  Suddenly the city felt too small, and in the middle of the night LA didn’t seem far enough away; hell, suddenly even putting an ocean between himself and DC didn’t seem good enough.  But he stayed, hating himself a little more with every passing hour for being such a coward.

            Then, on the third day, Tony called.

            “Bucky,” was all Tony had to say, and Bucky’s stomach hit the floor.  He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool wall, trying not to throw up again. “I hate to ask but…we need your help.”  When Bucky didn’t respond immediately, Tony hurried on.  “There are more of these freakish Hydra super soldiers than we thought there would be and…” Bucky’s hand was tight on the phone as he heard Tony’s long exhale. “I know this isn’t want you’re getting paid to do-”

            “It’s not about the _money_ ,” Bucky said harshly.  He took a ragged breath and ran his hand over his mouth. Over the past two days, the thought had occurred to him that there was a third choice, besides running from his past or facing Steve and having all of his secrets bared to the ugly light of day. Unfortunately, it was one that he was almost as afraid of as the others.  He exhaled long and low, clenching his flesh hand into a fist to make it stop shaking.  “Okay. I’ll help.” His voice was rough, so he cleared his throat.  “Just…tell me where to meet you.” 

            When he got off the phone, he walked reluctantly to the one bag he always carried with him but never unpacked; buried at the bottom of a closet, out of sight but rarely far from his mind.   He pulled it out and unzipped it, dread making his limbs heavy.

            At the bottom of the bag, under layers of stiff, reinforced tactical pants and bullet-proof vests, was a mask and ballistic goggles.

***

            Hours later, he found Tony gathered with others at the edge of the Potomac, looking over the water at SHIELD headquarters.  He approached silently, studying them; Tony was in a suit, helmet retracted, and Steve was easily recognizable at his side.  Beside Steve, looking tiny next to him in his tactical suit, was a redhead whose profile stirred uneasy memories.  The final man, dark-skinned with short hair and a strange bulky backpack, he didn’t know at all.

            He came up next to Tony; JARVIS must have warned him of his approach because he didn’t look surprised.  “You made it,” Tony said, sounding relieved. Bucky gave a curt nod as Tony’s eyes traveled over him, and Bucky knew what he saw: the dark ballistic goggles and mask obscured his features, and he was in black from head to toe, metal arm gleaming.  Wearing this again, the mask and the gear, felt right, felt like coming home, and made Bucky want to rip every piece of it off and shower until his skin bled.

            “Who is this?” Steve asked warily as everyone turned to look at him.  Bucky refused to look at him, afraid he’d lose his fragile self-control.  He kept his eyes on Tony, trying to remind himself why he was here when he’d rather be anywhere else. 

            “This is-” Bucky made a sharp warning gesture. “A free agent,” Tony finished.  “He’s going to help us out with this Hydra problem, and then he’ll be going on his way.”

            “I gotta say, this guy looks a lot like the guys we’re fighting,” the black guy said, eyeing Bucky’s mask and goggles.  Bucky gave him points for perception. “Who is he again?”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Tony said.  “I’m vouching for him.”

            Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment he shook his head and visibly decided not to.  “If you say so, Tony.  What do we call him?”

            “Rambo will be fine,” Tony said when Bucky didn’t volunteer anything.  He was too busy studying the red-head, who was studying him in turn, something sharp and suspicious in her brown eyes.

            “Alright, everyone,” Steve said.  “Sam, you’re with me. Tony, guess you’ve got Rambo here.  Natasha-”

            “On it,” she said, giving Steve a salute and finally looking away from Bucky.  “See you on the flip side, boys,” she said over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

            The new guy, Sam, apparently, pushed a button on his shoulder and mechanical wings unfolded from his backpack, whirring as an engine in the center came to life.  He took Steve’s hand and then they were skimming across the river to the Triskelion, coming in low to avoid the building’s anti-aircraft defenses.

            “They’re going to try to keep the helicarriers from launching,” Tony explained, shading his face from the sun as he watched them go.  “But if they fail, that’s where we come in.”

            Bucky nodded curtly, wishing that he could just punch something already.  His skin was crawling in this gear; when he’d escaped from Hydra, he swore to himself that he’d never wear it again.  He only kept it to remind himself how far he’d come, but here he was, feeling like he was walking to his own execution.  He itched to pace but he knew if he started walking he may very well start walking back to LA, so he forced himself to stay still.

            “Are you ok?”

            He turned his head to see Tony watching him with concern. He wanted to say _I’m fine,_ but he didn’t think he could force himself to tell a lie that big. There was a knot in his chest, fear and dread and panic, so big that he couldn’t speak around it, so he just shrugged.  Even though they were just standing here, he felt like everything was balanced on a knife’s edge and the tension made him want to scream.

            “Seriously, Bucky, are you ok?” Tony had his hands on Bucky’s shoulders now, the armor making them heavy. 

            “I just want to finish this,” Bucky managed to say.  “Let's get it over with.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bucky is in a dissociative sate during the first part of this chapter

            “Rambo!”

            He stared down at the blood on his hands, sticky and gleaming against the metal, the smell of it thick in his nose.  Around him, the helicarrier was ripping itself to shreds, pieces of it losing the fight with gravity and falling to the river below.  

            “Hey! _Rambo!”_

            He sagged to his knees, listening to the roar of the guns like thunder, loud enough to press against his skin and make his heart skip.  Next to him, one of the other Winter Soldiers stared sightlessly at the flames around them, neck broken. He had wondered, while they fought, if she had remembered him, remembered countless sparring sessions and training exercises, or if Hydra scrambled her brain as much as they had his.  Now, he was just tired. So tired.  He raised his hands to take off his goggles and his mask, because he couldn’t breathe, there was so much smoke in the air, but a deeply remembered instinct made his hands freeze.  _You must wait for your handler._

            “C’mon, sweetheart, snap out of it.  I can’t get to you, I need you to come to me.”

            He shook his head at the thought.  He didn’t have a handler now. Right?  So he could take them off.  Still, his hands didn’t move.  He’d worked so hard to get away, but here he was again, surrounded by death and destruction.  Below him, the river was catching fire, spilled jet fuel igniting from burning debris, creating a hellish orange light that was getting closer as the helicarrier fell slowly out of the sky. He had the dim thought that he should move, should do something, but it seemed so much easier to just…sit. Wait. Watch the fire grow nearer, hotter, burning like absolution-

            “ _Bucky!”_

            He looked up to see brown eyes watching him, wide with fear.  The man’s face was pale and bruised, framed by a red and gold helmet.  The hand he was holding out was armored, too, but the man couldn’t quite reach him.

            “Come on, Bucky. It’s me, Tony.  Come to me,” the man said, hand gesturing for him to come closer.  “ _Please_ , come to me.  Give me that infuriating metal hand that you never let me look at.  We gotta finish our _Halloween_ marathon, you haven’t even seen Halloween H20 and it’s the _worst_.  You’ll love it.”  The man’s voice was pleading, desperate, and for some reason the sound made his heart turn over in his chest. He took a ragged breath, what felt like the first one in ages.  The heat burned the back of his throat.

            “Stand up,” the man said. “Bucky, _stand up._ ”  The urgency in the voice dragged him to his feet.  “Good! Good, come on.  I’m just a few steps, come to me. That’s it.” It felt like all he could do to put one foot in front of the other, but he did, staggering towards the voice and the hand.  The river was really close now, he noted absently.

            “Thank God,” the man said, gauntleted hand closing around his wrist. The grip tugged him through the wreckage, the groaning metal that had cut that room off from the rest of the ship, then hard metal arms were wrapping around him and he was free, a mechanical angel flying him out of hell.

 

            Bucky woke up in his bed in the tower, body aching and still strangely tired.  JARVIS must have told Tony he was getting up, because he had just enough time to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and sit up when Tony was standing in the doorway, knocking on the frame.

            “Hey, Bucky,” he said lightly, thought his eyes were tight with worry.  “Are you back with us?”

            Bucky scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to think of the last thing he remembered.  “Yeah, I’m ok.”  The last thing he remembered was fighting one of the other Winter Soldiers, then everything else was blank, like he had gotten blackout drunk or something.  “How’s DC?” he asked as he stood and stumbled to the bathroom.

            “Well the fires are out.  The literal ones, not the metaphorical political ones, those are just starting.” Tony was quiet while Bucky pissed and washed his face, grimacing when he saw how pale he looked in the mirror.  He still smelled like gasoline and blood, so he must not have taken a shower before falling into bed.  That was on the top of his to-do list, right after eating.

            When he came back out to the bedroom Tony leaned against the doorframe.  “So, how are you feeling?”

            “Exhausted. Starving. Smelly,” Bucky said honestly.

            The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up though his eyes were still shadowed with concern. “Follow me and we can fix starving, then you can work on smelly and exhausted.”

 

            The next time Bucky woke up it was three in the afternoon, and the physical exhaustion was gone, though he still felt mentally and emotionally numb.  He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and went in search of Tony.

            “No, Pep, if anyone wants a comment send them to acting SHIELD Director Maria Hill,” Tony said into the phone with the cheeriness of a man passing the buck to someone else. When Bucky came around and collapsed on the couch next to him, he offered Bucky a welcoming smile and patted his lap.  Bucky gratefully slid sideways until his head was on Tony’s thigh while he kept talking to Pepper. “Or else they can provide questions in writing and let the lawyers or the PR people work for their money,” Tony continued. There was a pause, then he laughed.  “Well, then pay them more.  Thanks, Pep, I’ll talk to you soon.”  He set the phone down on the arm of the couch and put his hand on Bucky’s head, carding his fingers through his hair.  “So, feeling any better?”

            “A little,” Bucky said, shivering a little at the feeling of Tony’s fingers on his scalp.  “What are you watching?”

            “Not sure.  I got tired of watching the news when they ran out of new things to say.”  Looked like some sort of stupid action film; some guy just made an improbable jump from one building to another as it was exploding for some reason.

            “Did you tell me something about watching a Halloween movie?” Bucky said suddenly, memory coming from nowhere.

            Tony’s hand stilled. “You remember that?”

            Bucky frowned and rolled over so he could see Tony’s face, which was carefully blank.  “Sort of. You said something about it being terrible.”

            “Yeah. You were, um…” Tony was avoiding Bucky’s eyes, which made him nervous.  “You had some sort of…episode, on one of the helicarriers.  You were pretty unresponsive.  I barely got you out.”

            “Oh.” Bucky’s hand came up to his cheek, feeling the imprint of the mask on his face. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

            Tony shrugged, still looking everywhere but in Bucky’s eyes.  “You know, given everything,” Tony said with a forced casualness, “I think maybe you should tell me a little bit more about your background.”

            Bucky took a deep breath and turned so that his face was pressed against Tony’s hip, blocking out the light. He was silent while he tried to figure out what to say. “I was held by Hydra for a while,” he said eventually.  “They experimented on me.  Forced me to fight for them. But I got away, and I’ve been hiding from them ever since.”

            “Christ,” Tony said eloquently.  The hand in Bucky’s hair gentled, cradling the back of his skull before stroking down to his arm and shoulder. “Christ, I’m so sorry. I never thought…” He fell silent for a while. “So you were serious, back when I asked about the arm,” Tony said finally.

            “I never lied to you,” Bucky said, voice muffled. “I mean, it wasn’t a terrorist attack, they found me after an accident when I’d been left for dead.  And I guess you could call Hydra a terrorist group.  But yeah, I was serious.”

            “Thank you for telling me.  Is that where you got the arm?”  Bucky nodded.  One of Tony’s hands was resting on top of Bucky’s shoulder while the other was back to stroking his hair, and Bucky wanted to stay there forever.  “You know, I was awake for part of the, you know, surgery for this,” Tony said quietly, tapping the arc reactor under his shirt.  “I still can’t think about getting it removed, even though I _could_ , now.  Just the thought of surgery gives me a panic attack.”  Then he let out a dry, bitter laugh.  “Then again, what _doesn’t_ give me a panic attack these days.” The room was silent for a while, then Tony patted Bucky on the arm. “C’mon, get up.” Tony pushed at Bucky until he made space for Tony to lie down between him and the back of the couch.

            Bucky barked out a surprised laugh as he lay back down.  “ _You’re_ going to be the big spoon?” he said as Tony punched a pillow to get comfortable then reached for the remote.

            “Big spoon isn’t about size, it’s about state of mind,” Tony said loftily. “Now shut up and watch this terrible movie with me.”

            Bucky watched for a little while, more entranced by the feeling of Tony’s body against his back, heart beating steady against him, breath stirring his hair, than the actual movie.  But soon enough the movie became _too_ terrible, so Bucky rolled over and tucked his face against Tony’s chest.  This position wasn’t quiet as comfortable, because knees, but to his surprise Bucky actually fell asleep like that. At some point, Bucky could have sworn that he felt lips press against his temple, but he was already so drowsy that it may just have been wishful thinking.


	6. Chapter 6

            They had six months of normal; at least, normal for Tony Stark: international trips, long nights at the office, supervising the construction of the Avengers compound and endless redesigns of the Iron Man suit.  Bucky took over fire extinguisher duties from DUM-E at the lab and finally put his foot down when Tony tried to make him watch yet another improbable natural disaster movie.

            Then SHIELD called Steve and Steve called Tony.  When Tony had brought it up, it was casual, offhand; another routine mission, probably another dead end.  Bucky noticed that he was careful not to even hint about Bucky participating, for which Bucky was gratefult.  When everyone, including Thor, gathered at the Tower for the mission pre-briefing Bucky made himself scarce, barely leaving his room until he heard the rumble of the Quinjet leaving.

            The problem was that the Tony that came back wasn’t the same one that left.  _This_ Tony was tense and jittery, his laugh too loud and brittle and his grin too bright. He was avoiding Bucky, spending all night in the lab with Bruce and retreating to his bedroom as soon as he came upstairs. To Bucky’s frustration and concern, all attempts to pin him down and find out what happened were deflected.

            And now, Tony was going to a _party_.  

            “Come on,” Tony said as he buttoned up his vest, smoothing down his tie to make sure it hung straight.  He was wearing a three piece suit, all black on black; devastatingly handsome, but by now Bucky knew him well enough to realize that for Tony, this was just armor of a different kind.  Something had rattled him on that mission and he was trying to pretend it didn’t happen. “It’ll be fun, you should come.”

            “Nah. You’ll be in a room full of superheroes, so I think you’ll be fine. I’m going to stay here and take a night off.”  Bucky emphasized the point by propping his feet up on the coffee table.  “I get to watch _whatever I want._ ”

            Tony snorted with amusement. “You know, most people would jump at the chance to meet the Avengers,” he pointed out as he shrugged into his suit jacket. 

            “Meh. I’m good. Have fun.”

            The twist to Tony’s mouth as he turned away was strange, not humorous at all, but all he said was “You, too,” then the door was closing behind him.

 

            Two hours later, Bucky’s curiosity got the best of him. “Hey, JARVIS, can I see the feed from the party?”

            JARVIS obligingly popped up a window at the corner of the TV screen, showing a bunch of people mingling, drinking, chatting.  Tony was in the corner of the screen, laughing with Rhodey, and for a short, sharp moment Bucky was so jealous of Rhodey, that he got to have happy Tony when he’d been all sharp edges around Bucky.  “Thanks, JARVIS, you can turn it off now.”

            But seeing that made Bucky restless, and even though he knew he couldn’t go down there because Steve was there, wearing blue and smiling at the man from DC, he really wanted to.  He had the crazy idea of wearing a mask to the party, like Cinderella to a ball, but he knew that was crazy as soon as he thought it. So he tried to keep himself occupied, reading, watching a movie, counting down the hours until Tony might theoretically come back from the party.

            It was about two in the morning when Bucky let himself ask again.  “JARVIS, can I see Tony? The party, I mean?”  When JARVIS didn’t answer, Bucky’s brows drew together. “JARVIS?”  Bucky’s stomach sank.  "Tony? Can you hear me?"

            Something was very wrong.

            Bucky grabbed every weapon that was close to hand and sprinted for the common area that was two floors up.  The sound of combat was audible as soon as he left the stairwell, and when he reached the main room it was total chaos. Bucky got there just in time to see Tony _leap from a fucking railing_ to attack one of his remote-operated Legionnaires with what looked like a _fondue fork_ , simultaneously turning him on and giving him a goddamn heart attack.

            “Tony!” he shouted, getting the attention of one of the robots. He blocked its repulsor blast with his arm then punched a hole right through its power core.

            “One second!” Tony shouted back, and then the robot he was riding dropped like a stone. Bucky was already sprinting across the room, cursing when he saw Tony hit the stairs hard.

            “Are you ok?” Bucky’s hands moved over Tony quickly, looking for broken bones or open wounds.

            Tony nodded and wheezed a little, breath clearly knocked out of him, but waved Bucky’s hands away. Bucky heard the air sing with the sound of Steve’s shield and then another one of Tony’s robots hit the floor, cut in half.

            Everything was quiet for a moment, then a severely damaged Legionnaire started speaking, moving jerkily amid the wreckage. To Bucky, its words were barely making sense but Tony was staring at it like he was looking at a ghost, stricken and pale.

            “There’s only one path to peace,” the robot said, its voice like tires on gravel. “The Avenger’s extinction.”

            At that, Thor’s hammer sent it slamming into the wall behind it, crushing its chest and shattering it into pieces. Then there was silence again, heavy and full of dread, as the Avengers stared at each other.

            “So that was a thing that happened,” a voice said from the upper floor.  As Bucky helped Tony to his feet he glanced up and recognized Hawkeye, Clint something.  He was looking right at Bucky, and here it was, that disaster Bucky had seen coming for months now.  “But first, who’s this guy?”

            Bucky involuntarily glanced around and saw everyone staring at him now. When he met Steve’s eyes and saw the recognition there, Bucky’s limbs went heavy with dread, keeping his feet anchored to the floor when everything in him wanted to run.

            “Right.” Tony grabbed Bucky’s hand and Bucky automatically pulled him to his feet.  “Uh, everyone, this is my bodyguard –“

            “Bucky?” Steve said, astonished. 

            “Hey, Bucky,” Rhodey said, right as someone on the other side of the room said, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

            “Hey, Steve,” Bucky said, looking at the shield at Steve’s feet, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

            “Oh, you guys know each other?” Tony asked. As he saw the looks on Steve and Bucky’s faces, his eyes narrowed.  “Ok, what am I missing? Is this some kind of awkward hookup gone wrong, or-”

            “So it’s really you?” Steve took an involuntary step forward but stopped. “You’re…you’re alive.”

            “Yeah.”

            “How-”

            “Ok, anyone care to explain to the class?” Tony said loudly, like he was trying to control the urge to shout. “Cuz I gotta say, I feel like there’s a lot of stuff happening right now that I don’t understand.”

            Bucky felt sick as he tried to find the words to explain, the right words, any words that might keep his whole life from shattering to pieces at his feet.  Bucky took a deep breath and, still not looking at Tony, said, “My name is James Buchanan…Barnes.”

            Rhodey was the first one to get it. “As in, _the_ James Barnes?”

Tony turned to face him. “What do you mean _the_ James Barnes?”

            “From World War Two, Tony.  As in, ‘best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.’” Bucky and Steve both winced as they recognized the quote, and Rhodey was giving Bucky a flat, suspicious look as he continued, “‘Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life on the battlefield.’  Guess that didn’t stick, huh?”

            “I still don’t understand,” Tony said.  “You’re saying that…”  Tony trailed off when he turned back around and saw the guilty look on Bucky’s face.  “Are you _serious?_ ” 

             “Why did…How are you _alive?_ Where have you been?”  Steve said, sitting down heavily on the coffee table behind him, still staring at him in disbelief.

             “You don’t want to know the answer to that, Steve.”

            “Yeah, I do.” Steve’s voice had a steely edge to it that Bucky remembered.

            Bucky blew out a long breath and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling exposed and under attack with everyone staring at him. “Hydra,” he finally said.  “When I fell from the train, they found me, gave me this,” he gestured with his metal arm, “and a little of what that doctor gave you, I guess. A couple of decades in cryosleep, and ta-da.” He waved his hands.  “Here I am.”

            “ _Hydra?_ ” Steve repeated with dismay. “All this time?”

            “Until about the nineties,” Bucky said.  “I told you that you didn’t want to know.  It’s not pretty and I’m not going to talk about it.”  A tense silence fell. Bucky realized he was gritting his teeth and forced himself to relax before he made the headache pounding at his temples any worse.  Steve’s eyes were shuttered and his jaw was working like he was having whole conversations with himself.  Tony had shaken his head and turned away as if he couldn’t look at Bucky anymore. 

            “How much do you remember?” Steve asked after a while.

            “Do we really need to do this now?”  Bucky gestured around at the devastation, at all of the strangers watching their little drama. 

            “I think I deserve some closure before you disappear again,” Steve snapped.

            “Fine. I remember a little,” Bucky said, rubbing his temple with his flesh hand.  “But I’ve also read a lot about myself, and, of course, that meant reading about you, so…it’s hard to tell what is really _my_ memory and what I’ve read.”

            “Why didn’t you come find me?” It would have been better if Steve had shouted, instead of saying it calmly, the hurt and anger churning underneath his words.

            “Because when I first escaped, you were still dead.  And then when you – when you _weren’t_ dead, I had already made a new life.  A new name, a job, friends, everything.  If I had come to you and said, ‘Hey, Stevie, long time no see,’ I would have been setting a match to everything I had built for myself.  I’m actually happy now – well, I _was –_ and it seemed like you had found new friends, with the Avengers.” At the time, he’d read all the articles about the Avengers with relief, glad that Steve had a new team now; it made him feel a little less guilty.  Besides, in every way that mattered, Steve’s Bucky really _was_ dead, lost and forgotten after sixty-odd years with Hydra and twenty years of being on his own.

            “Guys,” a woman said from over their heads, leaning on the railing with a pistol held loosely in her hand.  Her red dress had a long dark smudge on it and there was tiny shards of broken glass in her dark hair.  “This is all very dramatic, but I think we might have a bigger problem at the moment.  Shall we take this to a place a little less…destroyed?”

            “She’s right,” Tony said suddenly.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to face Bucky, eyes unreadable. “Look, clearly there is a lot that…this is a lot, but we have homicidal robot on the loose, and I just can’t deal with this right now.” Tony dragged his eyes away from Bucky to look at Steve, who was staring at the floor. “ _We_ can’t, I guess. So, just…stick around, and we will talk later, ok?”

            Bucky swallowed thickly and nodded. He watched as everyone followed Tony out of the destroyed living room to go to his lab, broken glass crunching under their feet.  He stared at his feet, not wanting to see the anger and betrayal in Tony’s eyes or the sympathy in anyone else’s.  Then dully, robotically, he packed his bags and walked out of the tower heading west.


	7. Chapter 7

          With a long, exhausted sigh, Bucky dug out his keys from a forgotten pocket of his duffel bag and opened the door to his LA apartment, dropping all of his luggage right inside the door.  Kicking the door closed behind him, he turned on the lights and reminded himself of what his own apartment looked like; it seemed cramped, now, and shabby, but that was only because it can’t compare to what a billionaire could buy.  Bucky had nice things, because the bodyguard business paid well, but he didn’t see much point spending a lot of the money on a place he rarely stayed. 

          Which reminded him – he checked to see if Ms. Potts had replied to his email, which had taken him hours on the train to compose: _Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark and I have come to a mutual agreement to terminate the bodyguard contract._ Then came a lot of politely worded “thank you for your business” and “please contact me if you need anything else” and all that other boilerplate speak that came with being a professional.   He’d sent it days ago, on the train as they passed through Montana, but she hadn’t answered yet. He had, however, gotten his paycheck, prorated to the day that he’d walked out of Tony’s tower, so he wasn’t going to have to worry about looking for a new gig soon.  Or anytime, really; the job with Tony paid out in six figures, but he knew from experience that having nothing to do was the fastest way for him to start spiraling, so.

          He’d give himself a week. No, two. Two weeks to feel sorry for himself, two weeks to see if what had happened in New York would leak and force him to leave “James Buchanan” behind, then he’d start looking around for a new job.  Probably not another bodyguard contract; he didn’t think he was up for spending that much time around someone that wasn’t Tony, but he’d done well as a security consultant in the past and a desk job sounded…restful.  Undemanding.

          With a desultory examination of his freezer, Bucky called in for Chinese food and collapsed on the couch, scrolling through his watch list on Netflix.  Usually in his downtime he liked watching historical documentaries, catching up on what he missed over the decades, but after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed a blanket and turned on _Sharknado 6._

 

          Days later, he, like the rest of America, woke up in the morning to see news of the devastation in Sokovia.  He wanted to call or text or write Tony, but every time he picked up his phone, the thought of it felt horribly presumptuous. Desperate.  How could he say _how are you_ without also saying _I miss you_ , or say _I’m sorry_ without adding _I hope I hear from you soon,_  so in the end he didn’t say anything.

          Unfortunately, even after the Ultron disaster slowly faded from national consciousness – it was all the way on the other side of the planet, after all, world-wide repercussions notwithstanding – Tony still didn’t come find him.  Two weeks turned into a month when Bucky had realized, foolish though it may had been, that he’d been hoping Tony would come for him after Ultron.

          When he woke up on the couch for the third day in a row, eyes gritty and mouth like cotton, he realized that he had to get up and start getting over it.  So he dragged himself off the couch and showered, then while he brushed his teeth he cleaned his bathroom.  Getting dressed turned into cleaning up his bedroom, including pulling the sheets off his bed and throwing them in the washer.  He got all the dishes into the dishwasher and the trash out to the dumpster before he ran out of steam and ended up back on the couch.

 _Maybe I should take a trip_ , Bucky thought as he stared at the ceiling. Something overseas, so he wouldn’t feel like he was waiting for a visit or a call that might never come.  He figured a walk would be a good start, since he hadn’t been outside for a few days, so he tugged his shoes on and walked down to the grocery store a few blocks away.  He wandered around the store aimlessly, picking up and putting down food until he finally grabbed a sandwich and ate it on the way back. 

          As he walked up his steps slowed at the expensive car parked in front of his building; when Tony got out of the car, he came to a complete stop.  Tony was dressed simply, an AC/DC shirt over jeans, but he looked tired around the eyes, mouth tense. 

          “Hey,” Tony said, smiling faintly at Bucky’s astonishment. “Can I, um, come in?” he asked, nodding his head towards Bucky’s apartment.

          “Sure,” Bucky said, leading him up the stairs.  As he opened the door he winced, wishing he had spent more time cleaning, but it would have to be good enough.  At least it didn’t look like a multi-week depression bender anymore.  Someone with opinions on these things would probably charitably call it “lived in.”  “Do you, um, want anything?  I’ll make coffee,” he decided before Tony could answer.  He needed something for his hands to do.

          “Thanks,” Tony said, taking a seat at the bar. “I wanted to come sooner, but well, Ultron.  Then there were a lot of…complications, afterwards.” Tony drummed his fingers on the bar thoughtfully.  “And I thought that, since you left the tower, you might need some space.  So I hope it’s ok that I’m here.”

          Bucky took a deep breath, trying to get his heart to stop pounding as he measured out the coffee.  “Of course it’s ok, Tony.  I’ve been,” Bucky exhaled and said, “I’ve been hoping you’d come.”

          Tension drained from Tony’s shoulders and he smiled. “Yeah? Good.  How have you been?”

          Bucky made a face as he poured water into the coffee maker. “Not great,” he admitted. “The way we left things in New York…It feels like I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to fall.”

          “Yeah, Steve wanted to come, too, but I convinced him to let me talk to you first.”  

          Bucky leaned against the counter and crossed his arms as the coffee maker started to burble behind him. “What did you want to talk about?”

          “Well, after the whole thing in DC, you know a bunch of HYDRA’s old files were made public.”  Bucky’s jaw tightened; he’d been worried every day that someone would find him in those files, would make the connection, but after weeks turned into months he’d eventually relaxed.  Apparently he’d relaxed too soon.  “Since you don’t like to talk about it, I’m going to tell you what I know, and you let me know if I get anything wrong,” Tony said, gaze steady. When Bucky nodded, jaw still tight, Tony said, “James Barnes was born March 10, 1917. After serving in the Army with distinction, he went missing, presumed dead, during in January 1945 during a mission in the Alps. That’s the part that everyone knows.” Tony looked down at his hands, picking at a callous there, as he continued.  “The part we are just learning about is that he was discovered at the bottom of a mountain ravine by Soviet soldiers.  He was severely injured, missing an arm and a lot of blood, so the Soviets put him into a recently invented cryogenic sleep tank until he was handed over to HYDRA and Arnim Zola.” At that, Tony’s mouth twisted with disgust.  “That’s when James Barnes disappears and the Winter Soldier takes his place.  Official reports say he assassinated over two dozen people within a fifty year span.   Including,” Tony said, still looking down at his hands as he picked his words carefully, “Howard and Maria Stark.”

          “What?” When Tony looked up at him, eyes sad, Bucky said, “No. No, I didn’t…” Then a memory came out of nowhere, a white-haired man on his knees, face bloody and eyes dismayed as he said _“Sargeant Barnes?”_   Suddenly bile backed up in Bucky’s throat and he barely made it to the bathroom before he was throwing up.

          “Bucky!” He tried to wave Tony away but he wouldn’t leave, kneeling beside him with a hand on his back.  When he was done, a wet washcloth appeared and he gratefully put the cool cloth against his face.  “I’m sorry,” Tony said, sliding down the wall to sit next to Bucky on the tile floor.  “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t realize you didn’t remember. I know about the brainwashing, I know it wasn’t _you_ that _-_ ”

          “Of course I didn’t remember,” Bucky rasped, throat raw. “How could you think that I would – I would get anywhere _near_ you if I had remembered killing your parents? Sit next to you on the couch, get to know you, sleep under your roof, the whole time knowing I _murdered_ your _family?_ ”

          The silence that followed was a little sheepish, so Bucky pulled the washcloth away from his eyes to look at Tony. “I, um, thought it was maybe atonement?  Like, you realized you were forced to kill my parents and decided to save my life to make up for it?” Tony ran his hands through his hair, looking embarrassed. “When I say it out loud it sounds dumb.  I guess I have been watching too many cheesy movies.”

          “No, it’s not dumb.” Bucky realized he was staring at Tony with what was probably lovesick awe so he dragged his gaze down to where his hands where tight around the washcloth.  “It’s…” _Sweet. Kind._ And 100% something Tony would do.  “Thank you. For not thinking the worst of me.”

          “Bucky.”  Tony’s eyes softened. “I know who you are as a person, ok? You may have hid your past, but you couldn’t hide who you are.”

          “A wreck?” Bucky said ruefully.

          Tony elbowed him in the side.  “A hell of a survivor, for one thing. I was held by the Ten Rings for six months and I’m still really fucked up about it.  You were held by Hydra for almost fifty years, but you…”

          “But I…?” Bucky prodded, but Tony shook his head and kept his mouth shut, and Bucky could see that the tips of his ears were red, which, despite everything, sparked a ball of warmth under Bucky’s ribs.

          “Let’s get out of the bathroom,” Tony said instead, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to lever himself to his feet. “I still want that coffee.”

          Tony made himself at home, digging out coffee cups while Bucky brushed his teeth again, then this time when he sat down Tony took a spot on the couch. “So I saw that you canceled the bodyguard contract,” Tony said as Bucky sat down beside him. “That’s good.”

          Bucky’s eyebrow furrowed, a little stung. “Yeah?  Why?”

          “Because as long as you were being paid to stick around, I couldn’t ask you out on a date. Workplace harassment, you know.”  Tony smiled at him over the top of his coffee cup.  “But now…Oh my God!” Tony suddenly sat up straight, eyes widening. “Does this mean you will _finally_ let me look at your arm?”


End file.
